One True Pairing
by A Damned Scientist
Summary: A couple of strangers wake up imprisoned in a cell aboard Moya. Some 'ships were just meant to be.


**One True Pairing (G)**

A couple of strangers wake up imprisoned in a cell aboard Moya. Some 'ships were just meant to be.

**Setting: **Post PKW, so either future fic or comic (in more ways than one) filler.

**Thanks: **Very many thanks to JJ and pdsldl for their beta-ing. I would also like to acknowledge that a few of the best lines below were suggested by JJ.

**Disclaimer: **Not mine, not for profit. Not Rygel's either, this time. I'll let you find out who, in the vernacular, gets 'owned.'

**Word count:** 3049

**One True Pairing**

_Just how hard and cold could the floor of a cell in a Leviathan be? _Grunchlik wondered as consciousness returned to him. _"Fairly," _(or some other word starting with F) he mused. Still, these things happen when a group of assorted aliens who see you as their enemy knock you out, strip you of your clothes and dump you naked on a cell floor. He knew he shouldn't have trusted Sikozu: he suspected she was still a little unhappy about some of the details of their business arrangements after the Scarran-Peacekeeper War.

As he sat up, he realised that he was being watched, from beyond the gratings of the cell door, by a wrinkly, green and probably female creature with one too many eyes.

"Where are my clothes?" he demanded in what he hoped was an intimidating growl. Grunchlik wasn't the type of hard-headed business man who would allow himself to show any weakness, but he was a little uncomfortable about his naked form being stared at by this old woman. She might get over-excited at the sight and he wouldn't want to have to deal with that.

"I don't need to talk to you," snapped the figure beyond the door. "But, seeing as you have to listen to me, I shall. Your clothes are piled over there." She pointed to a corner of the cell. "The others wanted to search you, you see, and then they insisted on laundering your clothes." The old woman seemed to shudder, as though she had said something distasteful. Grunchlik looked to where she had indicated and saw that his clothes were indeed piled there, neatly laundered. "You'll be pleased to know I saved you from the bath they were threatening to give you, though," his captor rambled on, the third eye in the middle of her forehead now glowing red

"You had some rather unusual micro-organisms growing on your skin," she continued, "and on each other," she added as an afterthought, unconcerned that he was now rapidly dressing and seemed not to be listening to her. "It would have been a crime to have washed them away. You'll be pleased to know I took samples. Fascinating."

Grunchlik shuddered and having finished his hurried dressing, approached the door. "You should let me go, I'm no threat to you," he whined. "Look, I wouldn't even know how to hurt you."

The old woman scowled in reply. "No," she snapped. "We can no more trust you than we can trust that," she spat out the last word, indicating a large pile of washed-out looking rags in the corner. Grunchlik looked towards the hillock-shaped pile she had indicated. The mound moved slightly and let out a groan. Then it stretched out to its full length, which really didn't change its appearance or shape that much. A head slowly emerged from the mess of fabric, its bulbous, white-irised eyes staring out at nothing in particular. A hand crawled to the figure's head to remove a small, greasy skullcap, allowing a few wispy, dirty-blonde curls of hair to escape and frame the face of what Grunchlik now realised was a female. She stared at the ground in front of her and scratched her scalp, as though she were tufting up the hair on the top of her head, and then replaced the cap.

"Another fine mess…." She seemed to mutter.

"I should have let them clean her up, though," sneered the voice from the three-eyed old woman outside the cell door. "The smell was…. quite appalling." The old woman shuddered at some memory. "Anyway, I have to go for a pee, but I'll tell the others you're awake," she added and walked off.

Grunchlik barely heard the sound of his strange captor's departing feet as all his attention was now on the vision before him. A Sebaceanoid figure was slowly becoming apparent as his cell-mate rose to her feet, allowing Grunchlik to determine that she was his sort of woman, curves in all the places, right or wrong.

"Hello, little lady, my name is Grunchlik, and it seems we have a…" he began in greeting. But he never finished what he was saying as she interrupted him.

"Tralk's stolen my helmet…" she muttered indignantly to herself as her stare settled on him.

"Tralk?" Grunchlik echoed.

"Maybe the same one that locked you up?" she suggested.

"Sikozu…" snarled Grunchlik, curling his lip.

"Hmm. Don't rightly know the name…"

"Scrawny li'l red'ed…. Kalish…"

"Can't say as I like her already," she replied. "But you know, you'n me'd get on a whole lot better if you didn't spit in my face when you talk," the bulging-eyed woman added with a grin, rolling her head as though it might fall off and wiping something from under her eye with her hand.

Grunchlik was silent and inwardly crestfallen for a microt before he realised she was teasing him. He returned the grin and replied in kind. "You're a fine one t'talk… y'know, you could do with using the dentic a little more often yerself." Truth be told, Grunchlik quite liked her aggressive, bantering manner. And he reckoned, from the look in her eye, that she was quite taken with him, too.

"Smooth talker, huh? I like that in a man," she batted back

"Wassyer name?" he barked.

"I don't see how that's any concern of yours," she responded with a smirk, rolling her cue-ball eyes this time instead of her head. Yes, she definitely liked him, he thought. Then she waited just long enough to prove that she didn't have to give her name before saying "And it's Furlow, by the way. M'name."

"Splendid! An' what they want you for, then, Miss Furlow?" he replied chirpily.

Furlow looked him up and down, sizing him up. There was certainly something… interesting about the way he filled out his trousers she thought. Grunchlik gawped straight back at her. She seemed to be eyeing him up and down appreciatively, or so he thought, and it gave him a little thrill.

"Oh, you know, this and that. That crazy Peacekeeper has got some bug in her britches, going on about my killing her Johnny-boy. I mean, how dumb is that? He's obviously alive, so what's her problem? And you?"

"Oh, nuffink, nuffink." He replied. Furlow gave him a disbelieving smile, forcing Grunchlik to consider expanding on 'nothing.' "This Sikozu, she's all upset about the deal we struck to get off the worta planit. She keeps on about me taking unfair advantage. Me! I'm just an honest business man."

"Honest business? Now that, I can understand," Furlow replied, making for the door grille. "Gimme a hand up. I wanna want to see if I can reach the mechanism at the top. Might be able to force it to open."

"Splendid!" he replied.

Reluctantly, and with much panting and gasping on Furlow's part, Grunchlik hefted Furlow's ample form upwards.

"Have you ever thought of going on a diet?" he couldn't help from commenting, despite his desire to curry favour with her. Although he was easily strong enough to lift her, she was difficult to keep aloft, as whatever and wherever he grabbed kept shifting disconcertingly beneath his hands.

"No. Have you?" she replied evenly. "And take yer hand off my….."

Suddenly, Grunchlik's grip slipped irrecoverably and the pair tumbled floorwards. Grunchlik had the wind knocked out of him, taking a couple of microts to register that he was now lying on his back with Furlow sitting atop him, his arms pinned by her ample legs.

"This isn't gonna going to work," Furlow observed. "Don't reckon you're man enough to boost me up there. Not like some as I could name," she finished with a wistful smile.

"Oi!" protested Grunchlik and started to raise himself upwards, forcing her up at the same time and thus proving his strength. Then his anger subsided as his eager eyes watched Furlow stand up and step back towards the door. "You hungry?" he called after her.

"Do I look hungry? Always get a good meal when you can, that's my motto" she replied, turning and rolling her head from side to side as if that were the dumbest question it was possible to ask. Grunchlik grinned and drooled a little in reply as he joined her at the cell door. "Never know when you'll get another."

"Oi! Old woman! We need to eat!" Grunchlik bellowed down the corridor. A few microts later came the sound of approaching feet.

"Eat what?" Came the uneasy response from Furlow, who was cautiously eyeing him up and down once again.

By then the old woman had appeared back at the grating. "Looks to me like you've both eaten enough of just about everything already," she muttered. Furlow and Grunchlik both protested strongly at that. The old woman merely smiled and touched her comms. "Officer Sun, our guests are awake. And hungry."

"Good, I will be along shortly," came the clipped and ice-cold voice from the comms.

Five hundred microts later, Furlow and Grunchlik found themselves handcuffed, shackled and being shepherded along towards the central chamber by Aeryn and Noranti. Although they would probably have derived some comfort from knowing that Noranti's pulse pistol was customarily empty, that would have been instantly offset by the knowledge that Aeryn's weapon most certainly was not.

As the prisoners approached the centre chamber two voices, engaged in a heated exchange, became audible. One was clearly that of Crichton, with his alien tones, the other was a strident female voice that Grunchlik immediately recognized as belonging to Sikozu.

"…..you before, the Pavlovian spheres are extremely valued as energy sources. The Hokathians will pay handsomely for them," protested Sikozu.

"And we've told you before; we absolutely will not deal with the Hokathians, no matter how much those spheres are worth. Period. End of discussion. And you know why!"

"But we could be rich, beyond your wildest dreams, and they're just sitting down there, in cargo bay four, taking up space!"

At that point, Furlow, Grunchlik and their escorts entered the center chamber. John angrily indicated to Sikozu that they should end their conversation. Sikozu harrumphed, glowered at John, stared daggers at Grunchlik and then flounced from the chamber.

"I'm guessing that's Sikozu?" asked Furlow. "Dunno what Johnny sees in all these bags'o bones."

"She's nothing but trouble, that one." Grunchlik nodded then grinned as he turned to John. "Tell you what, I'll gladly take her back off your hands, you know, for a small fee…"

John snorted and ignored them both, turning to Aeryn. "Was our cell OK? I mean, I know it's the only one still with good locks, but the thought of having these two in it…. "

"It's fine, John," Aeryn reassured him, although her slightly sharp tone and delivery betrayed that she thought he was focusing on an irrelevance. "You! Sit!" she ordered, turning her attention to the prisoners. "And shut up. I don't need your conversation." She added, waving her pulse rifle in a way which brooked no argument. Furlow and Grunchlik wisely did as they were told as quickly as their wrist and ankle restraints allowed.

Half an arn later, the edge taken off their appetites, Furlow and Grunchlik found themselves alone, restraints removed, and back in their cell. Furlow grinned at her companion in what she hoped was a winsome manner.

"Y'know, I think I've got an idea," she said.

"Wot?"

"I've got a proposition. Help me get off this ship, and I'll split the proceeds with you."

"Wot proceeds?"

"The proceeds from selling them Pavlovian spheres which we'll take with us." she explained.

Grunchlik frowned in incomprehension.

"You were listening, right? Pavlovian spheres? Hokathians? Large amounts of money? And cargo bay four is next to the docking bay where they have my transport."

"Ah, Pavlovian spheres, Hokathians. A large profit to be had. Splendid!" echoed Grunchlik, the penny dropping.

"Unfortunately, we're both locked in this cell…."

"Not for long," grinned Grunchlik, pulling a full cutlery setting from the sleeves of his scruffy tunic.

"That's enough! I'm not risking staying on this crazy ship a microt longer than I have to," declared Furlow.

"But there's three more…" protested Grunchlik, pointed to the three remaining spheres in the cargo bay. "They're very small spheres…."

"Don't be greedy, Grunchlik. Always be the one to walk away while the greedy one gets caught," she suggested, giving him a friendly pat on the butt. "That's my motto."

Tempted though he was to go for just one more sphere, Grunchlik had to confess that maybe she had a point. The rear of Furlow's transport was already packed with more than half a dozen of the rough, brown spheres. Each of them stood as tall as Furlow and was considerably more rotund. But the couple's luck in not being discovered by Moya's crew couldn't last for ever. Besides, it had been a difficult process getting even that many spheres, as neither of the duo had been willing to allow the other to be alone with the transport and thus have the opportunity to flee with the spheres but without their new business partner.

Grunchlik had to admire Furlow's head for such intricacies of a business arrangement. She was his kind of woman. If these spheres were truly valuable, half a dozen should give them a good return. She was right, it was time to take their profits and go. He followed her back to the docking bay and her beaten-up old transport pod.

Once aboard Grunchlik lowered himself into the co-pilot's seat, an exact copy of that for the pilot. Both looked as if they had been made for overweight Scarrans: perhaps Scarrans that had eaten too much fattening, frozen, creamy dessert, if such a thing were possible. Furlow activated a gizmo to override the docking bay door controls and soon afterwards they were free and flying, heading towards the refuge of a nearby planet.

"Hang on," murmured Grunchlik, "Wozzat?" he asked, pointing towards a blip on one of the displays in front of him.

Furlow glanced across, smug nonchalance draining from her face as she registered the blip.

"Frell! I reckon it's that stupid Peacekeeper tralk! We're going to have to take evasive action, hold on!"

With that Furlow started frantically working the flight controls, pouring on the speed and jinking around in an effort to dodge their pursuer. Grunchlik was impressed with her success when first pulse cannon fire then the unmistakable form of a Prowler shot past them. But even as they flew past, their pursuer was already slowing and banking to make a return pass.

Furlow piled on the manoeuvres, throwing the transport from side to side and up and down, her teeth clenched in grim determination. So focused was she on the matter at hand, that, unlike Grunchlik, she didn't hear the spheres banging into each other behind them, or the strange accompanying sound which resembled that of eggshells breaking.

"Erm, Furlow, wozzat 'orrible smell?" Grunchlik asked, wrinkling his nose.

"Not now, can't you see…" Furlow replied, as she threw the craft violently downwards to avoid another pass from the Prowler. But, if she had been planning on finishing her sentence, she never got there. As the transport pitched downwards, an ominous sound of cracking and shattering came from behind them. A split-microt later a wave of thick, dark-green and nauseatingly pungent fluid swept from the now broken spheres to engulf pilot, co-pilot and consoles alike. Grunchlik screamed. Furlow vomited. The foul, clinging fluid found its way into ears, up nostrils and into every crack and crevice, and there it clung, like malodorous, malevolent green honey. Ten microts later, the transport lay still in space, its occupants no longer able to focus on anything, even their escape.

The Prowler drew up alongside and hailed them. After about twenty microts Furlow summoned enough control over her spasming body to open the channel.

"Furlow, Grunchlik? What is your status?" Came Aeryn's commanding voice. The only reply from the shuttle was a deep retching from Grunchlik. Neither Grunchlik nor Furlow had a clear enough head to wonder why Aeryn had stopped firing on them.

"Grunchlik? Is that you?" Came Sikozu's voice, sounding smugger and even more annoying than Grunchlik had ever remembered her. "You don't sound well."

"Frelling Pavlovian spheres….. Cracked…. Request urgent assistance!" Furlow managed to gasp out.

"Pavlovian balls? Never heard of them." Aeryn replied, her voice a paragon of honesty. "Sounds like the sort of dren John would come out with. Sikozu, you are the tech, have you…?"

"I've never heard of them either. But Pilot did report that several of the spheres that Moya produces when she excretes her metabolic wastes have gone missing."

"The Leviathan-dren? But why would anyone take those?" Aeryn replied with exaggerated innocence. "They are quite worthless."

"And famously fragile," added Sikozu.

"Ah yes, famously fragile," concurred Aeryn rubbing it in.

"You lied!" Furlow gasped out.

"Lied? Me? No! Never!" Aeryn replied, apparently affronted. "The others, though…. They are always making up stories. I may have to limit the amount of television they watch."

"You have to help us!" pleaded Grunchlik.

"Absolutely not: Once you get that stuff on you, I've heard it can take weekens to scrub it off." declared Sikozu.

"Eugh," Aeryn sniffed pointedly "could be more," perhaps gloating now, from the sound of her voice. "Monens, even."

"But the smell…." Protested Furlow.

"Exactly. But I'm confident you'll both get used to it," replied Sikozu, smirking.

"Maybe we should attach a warning beacon to this shuttle?" suggested Aeryn, deliberately leaving the comms open while she continued talking to Sikozu. "For the sake of any passers-by, I think we need to declare this shuttle and its crew to be Irreversibly Contaminated,"

"I actually have just the thing prepared," confirmed Sikozu.

"Good, excellent foresight," concluded Aeryn, edging the Prowler closer to the transport to attach the beacon.

"You can't put that beacon on our ship! People will want to kill us!" pleaded Furlow.

"You'll be fine," soothed Aeryn as the beacon latched on to the transport with a dull thud. "After all, it is only people who know you who want to kill you. Still, it will ruin your chances of making a clean getaway this time."

The end.


End file.
